


Just a Little Longer (i'll find my way back to you)

by Mals11



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fitz being a softie, Pregnancy, Season/Series 07, i just had a lot of thoughts after the episode, kinda 7x01 spec, post 7x01, what happened during "we had time" TELL US
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24429409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mals11/pseuds/Mals11
Summary: “He’s safe.” Jemma’s answer to Yo-Yo is definitive. Of course he has to be safe. They had walked through infinite possible scenarios together, run a plethora of simulations.He is safe.Theyare safe.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	Just a Little Longer (i'll find my way back to you)

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to Sanctuaria for pushing me to write this and dust off the many years of cobwebs that have built up since I have last attempted to write a fic (and for editing and helping with the title!!).
> 
> Also, happy season 7 of SHIELD, I really cannot believe this is the end... 
> 
> I just had a lot of emotions about Jemma from the first episode and this came out.

“He’s safe.” Jemma’s answer to Yo-Yo is definitive. Of course he has to be safe. They had walked through infinite possible scenarios together, run a plethora of simulations. 

He is safe. 

_ They _ are safe. 

Jemma and Fitz had been through enough together, enough time apart; she shouldn’t find this so incredibly hard every single time. But it is. Running through the codes, numbers, waves in her head.

“Urggg.” A groan leaves her mouth involuntarily; why can’t she figure this out? Jemma presses her hands to her eyes until colors burst like fireworks behind her eyelids.

She just wants the message, is that too much to ask? To  _ know _ that he is safe — read, hear something, anything that proved it. Scientists need evidence to back their claims, and currently she has none. 

It has been a long day, and Jemma can’t say that the stress of the unknown hasn’t taken over. It had frightened her the first time, when she realized the lengths she would go to ensure Fitz’s safety. But interrogating the Chronicom, it was a means to an end. Jemma needs to get back to her family, and anything that stands in her way is just that. In the way. 

Tired of staring at the ceiling of the small bunk, Jemma swings her feet over the edge of the bed and pads into the bathroom. Under the harsh fluorescent light, she takes in her face. It looks too angular, pale. But these days sleep is hard to come by. She had grown accustomed to Fitz’s steady breath against the top of her head and solid warmth under her hands. She had forgotten how to sleep without him there. 

Splashing cool water on her face, Jemma decides she might as well spend the time productively, but as she moves through the room and throws on some fresh clothes, the sound of Fitz chiding her for not sleeping and taking care of herself rings in the back of her mind. 

…

“Jemma, come on, you need to sit down.” Her head whips around from staring intently at the computer and flashes him a glare hopefully conveying the desired amount of annoyance at the disruption. 

“Fitz, I am fine. Just because I am pregnant does not mean my brain has turned to mush,” Jemma scoffs, quickly returning her attention to the problem of regenerating the electrical signals necessary to restart a steady heart rhythm. But he interrupts again.

“Jems, you know that’s not what I am saying.” The corners of Jemma’s mouth turn up as she hears his exasperation seep through. “I am just asking you to take a break off your feet.” A pause. “It is me that has to rub them every night when you complain about being on them all day.” he says, his teasing words breaking him into a full smile. 

And that finally does it, breaking Jemma’s train of thought. Feigning offense, she stomps over to him, or at least that's what she hopes it looks like, but at almost eight months pregnant it most likely looks closer to a glorified waddle. 

Jemma pushes an accusatory finger into Fitz’s chest. “You are aware that I am doing all the work here—I am pushing MY organs out of the way to grow _your_ child.” But she makes the mistake of looking up, and meeting his eyes—soft and oh-so-blue—and the twinge of annoyance at his disruption dissipates. Her hand slips from his chest and moves to run the pad of her thumb against the creases forming at the sides of those eyes, giving away his smile before his lips do. Pushing up onto her toes, she lets her lips melt into his. As time had passed, and they settled into the comfort of actually being together, the fear of unplanned separations began to slip from their minds. Kisses and touches had become less urgent, more peaceful. One of Fitz’s arms wraps around her back as the other settles on her stomach, and her breath puffs out into his mouth in contentment.

Pulling away, he smiles. “Don’t think that gets you out of it.” Hand linking with hers, he tugs Jemma towards a chair. “You can work while sitting down, you know.” 

Finally giving in, Jemma plops down into the chair, squeezing his hand and running her fingers over the calluses she memorized long ago, before finally releasing him. Oof, that does feel nice, she thinks as she flexes her feet up and down, trying to relieve some of the tension. 

Fitz has always come off a bit grumpy, rough around the edges to people who are looking in from the outside, but Jemma has the privilege of knowing how soft his heart really is. He’s taken to doting heavily after discovering the pregnancy, and she definitely does not mind the decaf teas that find their way into her hands whenever she gets a bit fatigued and especially not the night time foot rubs. 

Jemma watches as he flashes her a bright smile before turning back to his work station, his hands and mind already back to being deep in design and circuitry. 

…

That easy domesticity had meant everything.  Yes, they were working on fitting the Zephyr for time travel—to do everything they could so that Jemma could be here, save their friends and help stop the destruction of the world once again—but rubbing elbows with Fitz in the lab, bickering over nothing at all...it felt like before. When she was with him the joy took over and the pain was easy to push aside.

Now, the memory warms her from the inside, and every tense muscle wants to relax into it, pretend she is still there, with his soft touches and whispered reassurances. 

But there is so much to do, and too much to lose. 

Jemma can’t lose him. 

She won’t lose them.

Not again.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic after a long time, so any and all feedback is appreciated!! <3


End file.
